


It's cold out there

by vaguely_concerned



Series: Scoundrels and Thieves 'verse [12]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 20:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaguely_concerned/pseuds/vaguely_concerned
Summary: Jesse is freezing.





	

He sat leaned back against the headboard with a book in his hands, half dressed and with his dark hair loose over one shoulder - Jesse stood there on the threshold like a bad hand waiting to be put down on the table.  

Hanzo must have heard him somehow, because he lifted his eyebrows in surprise and glanced up to see Jesse in the doorway. He put the book down, a grin breaking over his face. “There you are.”

”Hey.” Jesse kicked his boots off, placed his hat on the nightstand and crawled up the bed to slide in between Hanzo’s thighs, shimmying into place until he had his back tucked all along Hanzo’s front. Strong arms came up to wrap around him; Jesse felt like a jigsaw piece that finally clicked into place after someone had tried to hammer him into the wrong puzzle for years.

“You took your time,” Hanzo said, hugging him tightly for a second.

“Yeah. Sorry. Had to take the long way.”

“Mhm.” He kissed Jesse’s temple. There was a cold stuck somewhere deep in Jesse’s chest, making him shiver even with the welcome warmth of Hanzo’s body against him.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Jesse squeezed Hanzo’s thigh, wishing the metal fingers could feel it. “In fact I insist. Preferably at length.”

Hanzo chuckled. Jesse never could get enough of that sound. ”Oh well. When you put it like that.”

Jesse turned his face for a soft, thoughtless kiss, then leaned his head back against Hanzo’s shoulder and sighed. Hanzo made a ’something wrong?’ sound.

Jesse took Hanzo’s hand where it rested on his stomach, played with it a little. “Nah. I’m just kinda chilly.”

“...I can think of ways to alleviate that.”

Jesse’s eyes slid closed. He smiled. “Now there’s that shrewd tactical mind I’ve heard so much about.”

Neither of them made to move, though. Jesse was so fucking tired he felt his bones straining under the weight of it - Hanzo turned his face into Jesse’s hair and rocked them slowly back and forth.

”Remember that time in Murmansk?” Jesse asked, huddling impossibly closer to him.

Hanzo snorted. ”Who could forget. Especially since you did not see fit to inform _me_ about your plans to go ice bathing before you jumped from the ship. I seem to recall there was swearing involved.”

”Hey, it got 'em off my back, didn’t it? And I knew you’d be there to fish me up again.” He brushed his thumb over the palm of Hanzo’s hand, feeling out the life line. ”...this is kinda like that.”

”If you say so.” His voice was deep with indulgent amusement, like it got when Jesse was slightly tipsy and trying to pontificate on something or other but arrived too late at the station to catch his own train of thought.

Everything was so warm and close but Jesse was still freezing, a slight shaking moving through him.

“I think I’ve fucked up,” Jesse said eventually. He looked down at Hanzo’s left arm and trailed his fingers along the tattoo, every line of it committed to muscle memory. “Again. I...”

His cheeks were wet. He wiped the flat of his hand over his face.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“...did you ever?”

Jesse laughed, and it felt like barbed wire being pulled up his throat. “That’s a very good point.”

They were quiet for a while.

“Y’know, I wish that was really you,” Jesse said. “I wish I could talk to…”

His lip hurt where he bit down on it. He didn’t want to wake up, but everything was disintegrating like smoke between his fingers no matter how hard he tried to hold on. Besides it was only a pale imitation of the real thing in the first place – time had washed over him in tide after tide, month after month, taking the details with it, and he couldn’t remember now exactly how he’d smelled, or what it had felt like to be happy like that, like you could only be when you were young and stupid and didn’t know any better.

”I miss him so much.” His chest rang like a cracked bell with the truth of it. This was why he usually didn’t go with honesty.

Hanzo rested his cheek against the top of Jesse’s head and said nothing, his fingers curling into Jesse’s shirt.

 

\---

 

He cracked his eyes open and immediately wished he hadn’t. The cold was even worse than when he’d dozed off.

His cheeks were wet, all right. The rain trickled down the back of his neck and ran from his hair into his face; his muscles were stiff enough that he was pretty sure he’d never be able to properly stretch out his limbs again. The unyielding icy metal of the shipping container had cut off all feeling in his buttocks - he winced as he pushed himself to sit upright.

He rubbed at his brow with the tips of his fingers, pressing down.

Fuck.

The container ship swayed ponderously between the rolling waves, though the storm was really just phoning it in at this point. He’d kind of hoped he could sneak under deck before they left port, but there hadn’t been an opening and now he was stuck out here until they reached… wherever it was they were headed.

Where the hell _did_ he think he was going. His first instinct had simply been ‘away’, but he was starting to suspect that as a long term plan that didn’t quite cut it. He took his hat off and tried to shake off the worst of the water. It didn’t help much.

He should probably have done _something_ before he left. If Captain Amari had been there - but she wasn’t, was she, not anymore. Nothing would change that.

At least he didn’t get seasick. It might be the saddest silver lining anyone had ever clung to, but there you were.

...he could go to Hanamura, but Hanzo wouldn’t be there anymore. No one had any idea where he’d gone, and Jesse knew better than anyone that if he didn’t want to be found there was precious little anyone could do about it. There hadn’t been a sighting of him in years, at least not as far as Overwatch could tell - Jesse had regularly snuck a glance at those files when Reyes had his back turned. Well. Reyes had probably known and just let him have it. It was funny, really. You looked away for just ten years and suddenly there you were, realizing that half of your life had been a lie – and by the way, that guy you were in love with? Pulled a full on Cain and Abel thing while you were away. Oh wait. Not funny. The opposite of that. That was it.

He shouldn’t have left him there alone, with no one but his crazy goddamn family. He should have... he didn’t know what he should have done. Something. Anything.

Hanzo might even be…

Jesse realized he’d been gripping the edge of the shipping container so hard that the prosthetic fingers left dents in the metal. He made a face and tried to poke it back into shape. After a while he fished out a cigar and spent some time attempting to light it, then had to concede that everything was too soggy and gave up. He sighed.

_He’s out there. He’s still out there somewhere. Only thing that makes sense. God knows that if anyone in this world can take care of themselves, it’s him._

(And Jesse knew, in his heart of hearts – he was selfish. If he could find Hanzo right now he wouldn’t have cared about anything else, about anything that had happened; he’d just grab him and run like hell. He wasn’t proud. He could admit it.)

Well. Nothing to be done about anything right this instance, anyway. Maybe if he just walked for long enough he’d figure out where he was going along the way. He settled back against the shipping container again and folded his arms tightly, tipping his hat into his face to keep out the worst of the rain.

This time he didn’t dream about anything.

**Author's Note:**

> As far as I have managed to suss out from the timeline (THIS FUCKING GODDAMN MENACE OF A TIMELINE), McCree leaving and Ana ‘dying’ would have happened at approximately the same time - around 2069. So I decided to work on an assumption that her being shot came first, and that it might have influenced McCree’s decision to get the hell out of dodge.


End file.
